


Icing on the Cake

by mutuisanimis



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, Johnson the Metaphysical Goalie - Freeform, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and sneaky emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 04:59:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3516206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutuisanimis/pseuds/mutuisanimis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hi y'all! I'm Eric Bittle, and welcome back to 'Icing on the Cake', where hockey players face off with me in the kitchen, and sometimes even win!"</p><p>Eric runs a Food Network show, and one time Jack guest stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icing on the Cake

**Author's Note:**

> From [iridescentOracle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/heterodyne_girl/pseuds/iridescentOracle)'s [tumblr prompt](http://jenesaispourquoi.tumblr.com/post/113220934041/bitty-has-a-food-network-show-or-the-like-called): bitty has a food network show or the like called "baking with the stars" and every episode features a different (famous) professional hockey player making something with him
> 
> Me: (Probably also figure skaters though?) And first of all can we just imagine for a moment tiny little Bitty bossing around /competing with Zdeno Chara on a cooking show? Kthx, now that's out of my system.
> 
> But so obviously Jack gets on there eventually...
> 
> (inspired indirectly by [this post](http://iridescentoracle.tumblr.com/post/112444861700). This got longer than intended. Who is surprised? No one.)

  
  


"Jaaaaack, it’s about to start!" Eric shouts over the commercials and thumps the seat beside him on the couch (mercifully neither green nor a biohazard). Jack clatters down the stairs and falls down into the empty space.

"I’m here, I’m here. Oh God, we are really going to watch this, aren’t we?" He ruffles Eric’s hair affectionately with one hand and claps the other over his eyes dramatically.

"Shut up, you buffoon." Eric grins and as Jack’s arm settles around him, he lays his head on Jack’s shoulder, eyes closed as he listens to the intro music. It’s weird, because when they film these things, there’s never music. Not even his own music, which is kind of sad.

 _"Welcome back to ‘Icing on the Cake’!"_  says Eric’s own voice from the TV.  _"We’re here this week with Jack Zimmermann, a center for the New York Rangers and, as you may know, a college teammate of mine, in fact."_

Not-on-TV Eric opens his eyes and looks up at the screen. He sees Jack walk onto the set where they exchange a quick hug.

Not-on-TV Jack pokes him in the thigh. “Whose phone is going to ring first?”

Eric hums in contemplation. “Do you even have yours on you?” he asks. Jack is the worst about answering calls or texts, not because he doesn’t care but mostly because he lays his phone down in ridiculous places and doesn’t think to pick it back up again.

Jack pats his pocket. “Volume up and everything. What are we betting, anyway?”

On the screen, Eric and Jack are lining up at their respective prep stations, surrounded by large, clear containers of flour, sugar, butter, and so forth.

 _"So it looks like we’re doing a pastry,"_  says Eric’s voice.  _"What have you picked, Mr. Zimmermann?"_  The gimmick of Eric’s show is that the guests get to pick what they each make, and the judges do a blind taste test. Not the most original concept, but a popular one. And it’s not like Eric always wins, either. Some of these guys (and gals) have really good taste (ha) in off-ice hobbies.

 _"Oh, I was thinking…apple pie."_  The camera focuses for a moment on Jack’s face, eyes glinting with a competitive spirit, then on Eric’s, eyebrows raised and eyes dancing with a smile barely restrained at all.

Not-on-TV Eric isn’t holding his own smile back very well, either. “You are such a troll,” he tells onscreen Jack. He turns to offscreen Jack and pokes him in the shoulder. “Troll McTrollermann. Anyway. Loser does laundry for a month? Wait, you’re hardly even going to be here enough this month to generate or do any laundry, are you?”

Jack grins without a trace of innocence or remorse on his face, then considers. “Loser does laundry for all of July. We can write it on the calendar and everything. Loser also has to field all phone calls after the first…hour.”

"For the next two days," Eric specifies. "If I lose, you don’t get to put off talking to people because you’re out of town."

"Fair," Jack allows. He reaches up and ruffles Eric’s hair again.

On-TV Jack is claiming to have practiced his pie-making extensively since their time in college as he rolls out his dough.  _"You don’t know what you’re in for, Bittle,"_  he says. And it’s weird to hear that, even though Eric should have remembered it was coming. Everyone on the show calls him Eric, or more often just Chef. But all those weeks ago when they filmed this, it had been just like those days in the Haus, with Jack subtly needling him and laughing internally. Eric would never have a poker face that good.

 _"Alright,_ Zimmermann _.”_  On-TV Eric retorts sarcastically, laying his own dough in a pan.  _"Bring it on."_

"But actually," says not-on-TV Jack. "Whose phone is ringing first?"

"Yours," says Eric. "Shitty’s faster on the uptake and the dialing than Chowder."

"Do you still win if mine rings first but it’s not Shitty? Kimmer has been talking about this episode ever since I mentioned filming it, could be him."

"I think I still win. Let’s not make this too complicated." Eric smiles, though. He likes Kimmer. Kimmer had been on his show last year before he’d left the Blues to join the Rangers, had made a passable carrot cake, and had really hit it off with Jack once they started playing together.

"Cool," says Jack. "I’ll take your mother to beat out Chowder, Kimmer,  _and_  Shitty any day.”

Eric laughs. The TV shows two uncovered apple pies, side by side in split screen.

"Dude," Eric says, gesturing to Jack’s side of the screen before it goes to commercial, "that’s a legitimately good-looking pie."

"Sound a little more surprised, why don’t you?" Jack grumbles, but he’s smiling.

"There, there," says Eric, patting Jack’s shoulder mockingly. "You’re a fine chef, Jack."

"Fuck you," Jack says cheerfully. "I am a fine chef." He smiles fondly. "You’re just exceptional."

Eric can feel himself blushing, and it’s not  _fair._ How does Jack just turn it around like that? He’s saved from responding by the sound of his own voice welcoming the audience back from the commercial break. You’d think after so many years of vlogging and TV and all it wouldn’t be weird to hear his own voice, but…some things never change.

_"And this week our judges are Ella George, a restauranteur from Chicago; Don Hsu, the host of Bake It or Break It; and John Johnson, a goalie with the Dallas Stars."_

Chefs Ella and Don say hello and wave at the camera. Johnson says,  _"This is getting a little meta even for me."_

On the couch, Jack laughs. “Man, Johnson is a  _weird dude._  But he plays good hockey and he liked my pie, so.” He puts on his favorite imitation of Bitty’s voice. “I ain’t complainin’.”

Bitty rolls his eyes and makes what he knows is a horrendous attempt at a Montreal accent. “Easy to please, eh?”

Jack laughs again. “Only if it’s you.” And great, now Eric’s blushing again. This is ridiculous. He is an adult. He refocuses on the television, where the judges are giving their final opinions.

 _"Chef A’s crust is just phenomenal, light and flaky, not sweet but not bland,"_  says Ella.

 _"True,"_  agrees Don,  _"but Chef B got that maple flavor in there which was very creative and really balanced well with the tartness of the apples."_

 _"This makes me regret giving Bitty my dibs without demanding any pie,"_  Johnson says.  _"Of course I don’t know which one is his, but, either way I could have had so much good pie."_  He coughs.  _"Uh, right. Moving the plot forward. I’m definitely for Chef B and the maple flavor. That was delicious."_

The camera flashes back to the kitchen where Jack and Eric are cleaning up and talking about the charity Jack started a few months ago.

 _"Yeah, um, so."_  On-TV Jack starts.  _"It’s…to help raise awareness about mental health for teenage athletes."_  Not-on-TV Eric reaches over and grabs not-on-TV Jack’s hand and squeezes it tight. Jack squeezes back, grateful.

_"The money, uh, goes toward workshops and things for teams or leagues who apply for it—a-and any team or league, any level, any sport, boys and girls, can apply for it if they primarily serve athletes from ages twelve to nineteen."_

_"What kind of workshops?"_  asks on-TV Eric, and not-on-TV Eric’s heart is pounding even now. No matter how much they practiced this, he still knew Jack’s speech was mostly given on adrenaline-fueled auto-bot here. It had been Jack’s idea to do it while they cleaned up, so he’d have something to do, and secretly Eric was proud of him for thinking of that and then actually asking for it.

 _"Um, making young athletes aware of different mental illnesses, symptoms, warning signs, ways to care for themselves and their teammates,"_  Jack is saying on the TV as he carefully wipes down the blades of a food processor.  _"As athletes, we spend a lot of time, energy, and_ _—_ _frankly—money on making sure that our bodies are in the best shape possible. It’s time we put some into keeping our minds healthy, too.”_

 _"Well said."_  Onscreen Eric instructs the audience how to donate or request funds if they’re interested, and on-couch Eric squeezes Jack’s hand again. Jack squeezes back and leans over to kiss the top of his head.

"You’re awesome," Eric says.

"It was a team effort," Jack answers, and for now, Eric will take that.

"Here we go," says Eric, wiggling out of the cuddle so that he can fish his phone out of his pocket. "You ready?"

"Little late if I’m not, isn’t it?" Jack asks. Eric looks at him with a little concern. "Relax," says Jack. "I’m joking. I’m so ready." He pulls his own phone out and nods toward the television.

Eric follows Jack’s gaze and watches as his own televised self comes back into the frame carrying two partially-eaten pies, one with a WINNER flag stuck in it.

 _"Well,_ Chef _Zimmermann,”_ on-TV Eric is saying, voice full of false derision,  _"if you’re going to come into_ my _kitchen and challenge me on_ my _special dish and_ WIN _…I’m gonna need to taste some of it.”_  Not-on-TV Eric is still amazed all their chirping made it to the final cut of this show. Then again, with where this is going…

On-TV Jack laughs and they cut slices of both pies and taste each other’s work.  _"You put maple syrup in it?"_  On-TV Eric asks in disbelief.  _"I_ taught _you that trick!”_

 _"What can I say?"_  On-TV Jack asks with a grin.  _"I learned from the best."_  Then he leans over and kisses Eric square on the mouth.

It lasts for only a moment, then Eric pulls back and bravely looks into the camera.  _"Sorry if this is a disappointment to any of y’all, but, uh. I’m taken."_  The screen fades out, and credits roll.

Not-on-TV Eric is amazed all over again just how red his face had gotten. He had seen it on some of the rough footage, but he’d forgotten. Not-on-TV Jack leans over and repeats the kiss they just watched. “I love you,” Jack says. “I’m glad we did this.”

Jack’s phone rings.

"Tell me that again in an hour," Eric says, "when we’ve both answered a bunch of these calls and you are stuck answering the rest of them." He grins.

Jack groans but answers his phone. “You been watching the Food Network, Shits?” Eric can hear Shitty’s response without even trying.

_"Zimmermann, I’m going to fly to New York and kick your ass into next week, you son of a monkey. YOU KISSED BITTY ON TELEVISION AND DIDN’T WARN US? HOW LONG AGO DID YOU FILM THIS THING?"_

Jack is just laughing and shaking his head and still hasn’t gotten himself together enough to respond to Shitty when Eric’s phone rings.

"Hey Chowder!" says Eric, with only a hint of smugness in his voice.

All he can hear from the other end of the line is a high-pitched  _eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee_  and someone in the background (maybe Dex? It’s hard to tell) reminding Chowder to breathe.

Eric echoes the sentiment. “Chow, air has to go back into your lungs at some point. I’ll still be here.”

His phone beeps a call-waiting and he looks at the screen. “On second thought, I think Jack’s mom is calling, so I’ll call you back in a few minutes when you’ve caught your breath.” He clicks over before Chowder has a chance to respond.

"Hey Alicia," Eric says. Not shyly. Definitely not that. There is no reason in the world to be shy with his boyfriend’s mother when they’ve been dating for actual years, in the plural.

 _"Eric Bittle,"_  she says with no preamble,  _"you are both in so much trouble, but I’ll deal with you later. Put my son on the phone."_  Eric doesn’t argue, but he does laugh because she has finally learned that the most reliable way to get Jack to answer the phone is to make Eric answer it first.

"Jack, it’s your mom." He holds his phone out.

"Okay," says Jack, reaching for it. "Here, Kimmer, talk to Eric. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow."

Eric takes the phone and just laughs.

 

**Author's Note:**

>  ~~Wicks~~ Kimmer, Ella George, and Don Hsu are completely made up, and any resemblance to actual Food Network or NHL people is completely coincidental. Everyone else belongs to the delightful ngoziu. Props to iridescentoracle for the prompt and ultimately the beta.
> 
> ETA: I thought I made up the name Wicks out of nowhere, but actually I stole it by accident from ngoziu. Since he was not supposed to be a former Wellie, I changed it.


End file.
